Silent Skull, Walking Corpse
by Otterberries
Summary: "Eduard. Some people act and some people speak. Voices tend to silence when a bullet is shoved in the back of the skull, but a cockroach's corpse can still move with its head cut off." 1930s Semi-historical AU. Human names used.


_Disclaimer:_ I Don't Own Hetalia  
_Warnings:_ language and adult themes ... strong T rating  
_AN:_ A Fill the Gaps: Cannoli Style addition... I really don't feel like explaining it again considering a good percent of you aren't reading this note. Take a look at my profile if you are interested. c:  
_Human Names:  
_Eduard von Bock - Estonia  
Ivan Braginski - Russia  
Yao - China  
Toris - Lithuania  
Raivis - Latvia  
Romulus Vargas - Romano **  
Seeli - Finland **  
**Seeli and Romulus are aliases for Tino (Finland) and Lovino (Romano) respectively. **

.:V:.

"And I promise that you will get the payments, sir. You put interest on the loan so for every month I don't pay you are getting more out of the deal. And the value of the dollar is currently at its lowest. Why not wait till it appreciates some? All in all, it is to your benefit for another few months."

I may have had a confident voice, but every single internal organ of mine were quivering to an irregular beat. To keep my knees from crumpling, it took whatever leftover focus not directed at my word choice. My pulse raced laps as if the pumping blood was a Thoroughbred and the capillaries were tracks. When I was not speaking, I held my tongue between my teeth to avoid begging for mercy.

Violet eyes are not natural nor is a wide, childish smile coupled with a hidden blood-stained pipe peeking from trench coat folds.

Hidden was not the right word. I knew that the man behind the desk specifically placed that pipe with the faded brown in minor view. And I knew that the man knew I was frightened.

The man behind the desk head cocked to the side, like he was not use to people negotiating with him. "It is hardly my fault that your investments in the stock market failed a year ago. Quite sad, though. All those people now living on the streets and begging for their next meal. However, you and your two brothers have a nice little tenant house not too far away from here. Good to hear you aren't completely out of money yet!"

I couldn't stop a chill run down my back. I needed to take the subject off of my brothers who had no idea I was here. Toris was most likely at his butler job in the wealthy American's house. A job he works sixteen hours every day. Raivis, at only age fifteen, was probably roaming the streets looking anyone needing a healthy back. He should be looking at a book and try to get out of the lifestyle of manual labor.

But to lower Toris' work hours and eliminate Raivis' need for a job requires money. And the only person in the area who was willing to loan money to a desperate, in debt student requiring university tuition and a key to his family's shackles was Ivan Braginski.

The Looney Loanshark strait from the hells of Russia.

Nodding to give Braginski a reason to listen and steeling my thoughts, "I understand, sir. The stock market crash has affected everyone, but depressions don't last forever. When the economy jumpstarts again everyone will be flocking to pay off their debt because they now have the ability to do so. And that small amount I borrowed will be on your desk with the interest sitting next to it."

If it was even possible, Braginski's smile widened till it almost stretched from cheek side to cheek side. "You certainly like the sound of your voice."

I didn't know how to respond to that unusual turn of subject and didn't want to risk offending the loan shark by frowning, so I opted to remain neutral. And pray to God that my hands would stop sweating.

I need not wait long because Braginski's expression changed from creepily friendly to outright beaming in a mere second. I also didn't know how to respond to that until I noticed that the odd violet eyes were not focused on myself, but to something behind me. For a few precious seconds, I debated turning around to see whatever could cause such an abrupt change. My curiosity trumped.

In the back of the simple office, the thin door stood open to reveal a petite female... or was she a male. It was hard to tell due to the braided hair and small stature, but their face was more masculine. His deep brown eyes were what drew my attention the most. Mostly because the person took several short seconds to stare and analyze me.

They were sharp. Not a single speck of suspending dust would be missed. For that brief second that I made eye contact with the brunette, his brown eyes darkened to the predatory gleam I have seen in lurking street gangs waiting outside of speakeasies for the right chance to lunge and steal. Only this predation was ten times harder. And ten times subtler. Had I blinked (which I never would have out of fear) during the few second deduction I would have missed being stalked.

The tense mood was shattered by a loud, cheerful squeal. "Yao-Yao! I was wondering when you would pay me a visit!"

The other man openly frowned at who was probably his boss. "Aru. I told you not to call me that. I am here for my next assignment then I need to be going."

I was wondering where this was going, but once the tall Russian stood to his full height, towering over both myself and the other male, I knew my time was up. Looney Loanshark had business to attend to, but maybe that will give me the break I'm looking for.

"Da, I have it. Eduard, wait outside. I'll be there in one minute." There was no room for negotiation in that stare.

Nodding once again, I let myself out of the doorway and took a deep breath of temporary freedom. The room outside Braginski's office, strangely enough, lacked people and the quietness unnerved me. But the door was hardly soundproof and I could hear Braginski and 'Yao-Yao' speaking about some end of the week event at some person's address.

Truefully, this was one thing I didn't want to know about so I didn't pay full attention. So long as it wasn't my address, which it wasn't.

Thank God.

The voices halted and Braginski emerged from his office, not the least bit affected that I probably heard everything he said through the paper door while Yao-Yao remained in the doorframe. His hands were folded behind his back diplomatically and his trailing scarf swooshed as he approached.

I was use to seeing a smile on the Russian's face. That smile was still there, but it was much more malicious with the slight smirk mixed in. I was use to seeing innocent curiosity in his pale eyes, not dreading condescend.

This was Looney Loanshark.

"Eduard. Some people act and some people speak. Voices tend to silence when a bullet is shoved in the back of the skull, but a cockroach's corpse can still move with its head cut off. Yao, please show Mr. von Bock the exit."

The suddenness of the threat shocked me into not remembering much of the walk home.

Toris was shoving a few, prized bills into the shoebox beneath his bed, the late night cold creeping through the slight walls and loose floor boards. "Toris, once I land this job you won't have to take random house calls like this. The interview is tomorrow. Ask Mr. Jones for a more limited schedule," I pleaded, trying to keep silent so Raivis can continue dreaming that their one room house was a mansion.

"We need the money, Eduard. I. I wish there was some other way, but..." Toris sighed.

I had a hard time coming up with words to describe how I borrowed money from an insane mobster a year ago, invested it in the stock market weeks before it crashed, started getting harassed for payment a few months ago, probably have a hit currently on my head, and, most importantly, haven't told anyone.

Toris and Raivis had enough to deal with; my mistakes doesn't need to be on that list.

There was a bump in the room next to us, and it startled me. "Ed, I believe you need more sleep than me. For the past week you have been rather jumpy." Toris headed to the door and laced up his meager, faded jacket. "I don't know when I'll be back, but expect sometime tomorrow afternoon. It's going to be another all-nighter." He offered a small smile, "Don't get into too much trouble, ok?"

I smiled back. "I won't. Not much else to do than practice interview questions."

With a satisfied nod, Toris left the room with a see you tomorrow. As soon as the door closed, I scanned the room for the nth time that hour. Nothing looked out of place. The kitchen table was scuffed to oblivion. The mismatched chairs had all their holes. The window still had its small crack in the yellowing corner. The only out of place thing was Raivis' shivering to the slight draft on the queen-sized bed the three of them shared out of both financial need and warmth during the harsher months.

I'm not going to sleep tonight; haven't had a full night's rest in days, so I folded my side of the duvet over Raivis. Relieving at the content sigh he gave, I could return to my notes on the table with one less thing to worry about.

And a whole slew of other things to.

"Lets see, what is your greatest weakness," I asked myself. I contemplated the question, twirling a pencil between my fingers, for several minutes before feeling something cover my face and a consuming scent...

Bleariness was the only thing tangible. Blearily uncomfortable. Uncomfortably blearily. Nausea. Also the smell of fish and metal. The sea? There was no way I could have walked here. Nor was there any way I could have bound my hands.

I immediately jolted awake only to come to more blackness. _Cloth_, I thought and came to the conclusion it was a blindfold as I tried to shift my hands out of the rough, scratchy bonds. But my nervous shaking was making it impossible besides the point that whoever tied these knew what they were doing.

"Fine-fucking-ly. Thought you were dead." The slightly accented voice knocked against my ears, intensifying the headache.

I heard light footsteps clap against the ground. Dirt doesn't make that noise when someone steps on it; we must be on concrete or something equally hard. I felt a cold finger curl up the bridge of my nose between my eyes and snap the blindfold off, the untied knot leaving pressure pain on the back of my head. Just another uncomfortable feeling.

I managed to slit my eyes before the oncoming lights blinded, but the surrounding area was dim. Still nighttime. A few, heavy pats to the side of my head caught my attention. "Oi, wake up. We've got shit to do."

I didn't understand what was going on. I got kidnapped, most likely by one of Braginski's men, but wasn't dead yet? When I fully opened my eyes, the blobby, hovering dark brown and hazel smears didn't help. But my hearing, now returned to normal, did recognize the accent as Italian.

A loud, impatient sigh came from the kidnapper. Followed by some movement and a cold liquid being splashed on my face.

"Ayee," I exclaimed, every single sense returning. I could now clearly see the criminal. And didn't like it because I recognized those eyes.

Pointed. Firm. Ready to attack at a moments notice. Instead of being brown they were hazel. The color change did not slow my quickening heartbeat nor calm my shortening breaths.

The kidnapper was simply waiting for my awakening to finish his business.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get the fuck up. We don't have much time," the other said.

I scrunched his eyes in confusion. _I'm tied up. How do I stand?_

As if the brunette read my mind, which unnerved me even more, "The bonds are looser than a flapper."

The brunette turned his back on me and went to mess with something in the trunk of the nearby car. Despite not believing the other, I tried again at breaking ties around my wrists and succeeded. Quite easily.

They were barely even tied. The earlier drugs must have affected perception.

Cautiously, I prepared to push myself up from the stone floor, but not before I took a good look around. We were in a shipping yard. There was only one, massive ship in dock and the usual busyness was abandoned in this ungodly hour.

Different plans surfaced in my brain, the simplest being making a run for it. But the brunette must have a gun and I can't outrun a bullet. Nor a car and the openness of the shipyard would make it easy to run me over. No witnesses were nearby.

The second was remaining idle until I could pinpoint what the brunette wanted. Once that was assumed, I might be able to negotiate for my life. Although, the other doesn't look much like a words person.

I didn't even want to consider the third option.

Whatever I decide, I'll have to implement the plan now because the Italian was returning with a notebook in his hands. I decided to bid my time.

"Fine," the brunette began rudely, "remain on the ground like an animal Eduard von Bock."

I didn't enjoy how this stranger knew my name. And probably a lot more than he let on, like my weekly meals at the soup kitchen, just because he read a file. I didn't know a thing about the criminal other than the fact his eyes are hazel and his tendency to swear.

A hazel-eyed swearer who was going to dump my carcass in some secluded dumpster for the maggots.

Perhaps I should ask the other his name just to interrupt his file flipping and gain some sense of the upper hand, but that would be irrational as a name is of no use currently.

Taking a deep breath I asked, "What. What is going to happen now?" I conveniently left off the implied 'to me'.

The brunette peeked over his file, looking like a giant from my lower perspective. I also noted a cockroach was crawling near his shoe. "You are going to stop talking and get the hell up like a man."

Nothing was making the least bit of sense. My skull was still intact. Nonetheless, I finally stood up, abet shakily. Once my feet were on the ground, the frowning brunette handed me the file. It's cover was unmarked and could contain anything.

_While I'm distracted by reading this is he going to off me?_ I thought. It is better to not see the bullet coming than to stare at your shooter.

I opened the pages to find something startling. It was me, a picture of me on an ID. However, the ID was from Finland and the name was incorrect. Not just a spelling mistake, but a whole separate name. An ID was not the only thing. Birth certificate. Work license. Some foreign money. Passport. All falsely labeled.

"You're probably wondering what the hell is going on and why you aren't dead yet. Well, the latter is because I'm not here to kill you."

I instantly look up from a paper containing someone's detailed back-story. "What?" I asked, forgetting to remain polite. Not kill? Then what in the world was going on? Any realizations I previously had left the room. I didn't trust the situation nor the other.

"You would be leaking blood if I wanted it, bastard. Whether you trust me or not is your own damn problem. But let me tell you the sad truth." The other's glare intensified. "I am the only thing between you and a bullet in the back of the head." The brunette checked his watch and frowned.

"Ok, I don't have much time so shut up. I'm not icing you because I may be one of Looney Bastard's hitman, but I'm part of an agency that gets people out of his manipulation. The file in your hands is your new life. Learn that shit backwards and upside down. The boat here is heading to Finland where you ass will be going as well. And that shipping container behind you will be placed on the boat in a few hours. Don't want to go? Then have fun dying. When you get into Finland, a man named Seeli will be picking you up and helping you settle. Give the file to him to prove you are you. If you have any more questions, refer to the sealed note in the file. Sill have a question, too fucking bad. Solve it yourself." he quickly explained.

I now knew what was going on, but didn't know what to say. What does one say when they are uprooted from their known existence. It was a skimpy existence, but the only thing I had and one boat trip would topple that.

However, the idea was tempting. A new life outside of Braginski's people? A new home away from spiraling poverty? The job situation must be better in Finland. Me and... there was two things preventing me from taking the offer immediately. "What about my brothers?"

While I was thinking about the pros and cons of the situation, the agent was busying himself with the large shipping container nearby. "I don't know, von Cock. Maybe you shouldn't piss of sadistic loan sharks. Instead of complaining to me about it, solve the problem yourself. Get a job and save some money for a one-way boat ride or shit." He sighed. "I've got a brother at home too. We all need to protect them somehow. You simply failed at it this time. But Finland can give you a second chance. Now get in the damn container!" He tossed a satchel at me. "Food and water for the trip."

I wanted to just walk right into that cold container, find a little corner, and begin memorizing the words of my new life. I hated myself for it. The brunette put a lot of effort into kidnapping me and making it look like a bloody hit instead of a rescue. And I don't even know how many people worked behind the scenes. All of my logical thoughts told me to say yes. Move those legs. Finland has a lot more resources than this damn place. Instead, I ended up saying: "I don't know."

The agent's face reddened with anger. "Bastard! I put so much effort into-!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Fucking fine. I can't force you to do anything, but the box is right there or you will have to find your own way home." With those words, the Italian began his trek back to the car, muttering his native tongue under his breath.

I looked between the brown file and the brown satchel. Toris' hair was brown. The rust on the crate was brown. Old blood was brown too. Like Braginski's pipe.

There was something that I wanted to do.

Just before the brunette crawled into the car, I asked: "Wait! What is your name?"

He halted his movement and curiously looked at me, furrowing his eyebrows in thinking. Hesitantly, "Romulus Vargas."

I didn't know whether Romulus was telling the truth or not, but the last name sounded familiar. It lingered like lemon on the tongue. And I _knew_ I've never met the other before. Then it hit me like a bullet. I have heard his name before and was scared of the entitlements surrounding the sentence 'Vargas' was in a week before.

Just as Romulus slammed the door shut on the car that was within running distance, I reacted. "Yao has your address!" I shouted, but Romulus' car sped away, unheeding my words.

.:^:.

Here's a happy bunny:

() ()  
( ^ . ^)


End file.
